The Art of the Careful and Sincere Apology
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: Dino makes a mistake, but fortunately knows how to apologize in style. Dino x Bianchi, smut.


**Title:** The Art of the Careful and Sincere Apology**  
Characters/Pairings:** Dino & Bianchi**  
Summary:** Dino makes a mistake, but apologizes in style.**  
Notes:** From theodosia's prompt "Bianchi & Dino: 'In other schools girls are sent out quite unprepared into a merciless world, but when our girls leave here, it is the merciless world which has to be prepared!' — Miss Millicent Fritton (Headmistress, St Trinian's Academy for Ladies)" 6377 words, smut.

**

* * *

**

**The Art of the Careful and Sincere Apology**

The body that had been Tony "Knuckles" Matanni hadn't even hit the ground before Bianchi turned on Dino, slamming into him and snarling, "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing here?"

"Um," Dino said. It probably wasn't the most effective way to start his self-defense, but he was trying to cope with the fact that a tiny, skinny woman who might have weighed fifty-five kilos _sopping wet_ had just bodychecked him and had him pinned against the prickly brick of the alley wall.

Bianchi produced a mass of something that seethed and bubbled alarmingly. The way she held it—like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to feed it to him or deliver it in suppository form—concentrated Dino's attention wonderfully. "Er, sorry! I think I misunderstood the situation. I thought he was, uh, bothering you!"

Bianchi stared at him like she couldn't quite believe she'd heard something that stupid. "Oh for fuck's sweet sake, Cavallone. I'm a hitman and I think I can take care of myself."

She hadn't done anything about the poison cooking she was holding, so Dino nodded as meekly as he could. "I'm sorry. I forgot." Anybody would have, if they'd seen Knuckles Matanni following a pretty girl into a dark alleyway. "Was he, um, your target?"

"Yeah, he was." Bianchi let go of Dino's collar and stepped back. She dropped the mess in her hands on Matanni's chest, where it landed with a stick plop and began to eat through his shirt. "Lucky for you."

Well, didn't he just feel like the world's biggest idiot? "I really am sorry."

Bianchi ignored him as she flipped open her phone. Her thumb danced over the keys, typing out a quick message, presumably to her employer. Then she sent it and tucked it away, and tossed her hair back as she ran her eyes over him, appraising him. "Good. Now you're going to take me out to dinner to make up for it."

There was really only one possible response to that. Dino nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. Any preferences?"

Her mouth kicked up at the corner. "Surprise me."

That didn't seem very likely to happen, but Dino shrugged that aside as immaterial and offered her his arm instead. "Shall we?"

Bianchi just snorted at him and stepped over what remained of Knuckles Matanni, strolling out of the alley unassisted.

Dino laughed at himself and followed her.

Vinnie, his driver for the night, was right where Dino had left him, though he was starting to look anxious. The cloud vanished from his expression when he saw Dino again, replaced by a relieved smile as he looked from Bianchi to Dino. "Get everything taken care of, Boss?"

"No, but I got to watch." Dino gestured at Bianchi. "Now the lady and I are going to dinner."

Vinnie didn't bat an eye at that, but then, Dino wasn't in the habit of employing stupid people. "Sure thing, Boss."

Bianchi did permit Vinnie to hold the door for her to slide into the car; she settled herself with as much aplomb as a queen.

"Call ahead to La Farfalla," he told Vinnie as he moved around the car. "Tell them I'll want a table for two, and ask Pierre to pull something really good from the cellar." Might as well make his apology worthwhile, after all.

Vinnie's smile was amused. "Okay, Boss."

"What's so funny?" Bianchi inquired as Dino settled into his seat, smiling.

"Vinnie thinks I'm picking you up." Dino watched her reaction from the corner of his eye as he belted himself in.

She just rolled her eyes. "You should be so lucky."

Dino grinned. "Try telling him that."

She just snorted and began inspecting her cuticles as Vinnie slid into the driver's seat and turned the engine.

"So who did Knuckles finally piss off?" Dino asked as the car purred into motion.

"That's not any of your business." Bianchi frowned. "And you should know better than to even ask."

True enough; their code of strict confidentiality was the coin that the freelancers used to purchase their independence. Dino held up his hands. "Just curious." He made a face. "Besides, it's not like he was that popular with many people. You ought to get a medal."

"I'll settle for getting paid. And for a good meal." Bianchi shrugged. "He's dead and doesn't matter any more. What brings you downtown?"

"Nothing, really." He'd thought to go around the clubs and check in with their managers to get a feel for how business was going, but that seemed much less interesting now.

Bianchi glanced at him, eyes raking over him again, probably taking in the cut of his shirt and pants, neither of which were precisely business casual. "Nothing. Of course." She smirked. "Glad I wasn't interrupting anything."

"Unlike some people, you mean."

"Men can't help being chivalrous idiots," Bianchi said, shrugging.

Dino could see that Vinnie was maintaining a carefully straight face and sighed. "So how's your brother?" That seemed like a safer topic.

"He's Hayato." That apparently made sense to Bianchi, though it didn't do much for Dino. She looked out the window at the passing buildings. "He's busy with the Vongola and with Tsuna. Seems to be pretty happy, going by how much he bitches."

That seemed like an odd measure of happiness, but then, Gokudera was an odd sort of person. "That's good. I haven't seen him, or Tsuna, since the thing with the Barassi." And that hadn't been a time for sitting down and catching up so much as it'd been a time of running around and trying to keep the world from going up in flames.

"God, the thing with the Barassi." Bianchi scowled. "I'd feed Giorgio Barassi a cyanide cookie for a song, I swear I would."

Dino contemplated a world without Giorgio Barassi running around like an idiot with delusions of grandeur. "What kind of song?"

Bianchi raised her eyebrows at him. "Depends," she said. "But if I tell you, this turns into a business dinner, and I don't ever mix business and pleasure. You still want to know?"

Dino blinked. "Is this a pleasure thing?" He'd thought it was more of a sorry-I'm-a-jerk thing, with a sprinkling of catching-up-with-old-friends thing on top.

Bianchi's eyes ran over him again, slow and assessing. "Could be."

They'd endured Giorgio Barassi for this long; they could stand him a little longer. Dino smiled at Bianchi, letting it spread across his face slowly. "Then I don't want to know."

Bianchi didn't seem to be charmed, though she did seem to be amused, which counted for something. "Yeah, I figured."

Dino laughed at himself again. "Can you really blame me?"

"Might as well blame an ass for being stubborn."

Dino trying to unravel that cryptic statement—had it been a joke, an insult, or both?—but didn't make up his mind before Vinnie pulled into La Farfalla and the valets were springing forward to get the doors. "Oh, good, we're here."

Bianchi permitted herself to be handed out of the car; when Dino emerged after her, she was looking up at the swirl of neon around La Farfalla's sign, mouth quirked. When he caught her eye, she just said, "At least you know how to make a proper apology."

"It was the least I could do." Dino offered her his arm again. This time she looked at it, then at him, before laughing and taking his elbow. "Shall we?"

"Sure," she said, and let him sweep her into the restaurant.

La Farfalla was trendy and expensive and had a waiting list that was rumored to be booked at least a month in advance. On the other hand, the way Dino saw it, there was no point in being the boss of one of the most powerful Families in the country if he couldn't occasionally exercise the perquisites of the job. The maître d' didn't blink when Dino gave his name or at Bianchi's utilitarian clothes, though they were somewhat out of place, and murmured, "Right this way," before conducting them to a corner booth.

Bianchi strolled through the place like she owned it; following her, Dino couldn't help admiring the unthinking arrogance and grace of her stride. The prospect of this turning into a pleasure thing was unexpectedly delightful.

Settling themselves at the table and looking over the menus and the wine precluded real conversation, so it was a while before Bianchi settled herself in her seat and took a sip from her wine, and said, "Do you try to rush to the rescue of every girl you meet?"

Dino shrugged. "I dunno. Hasn't actually happened before."

Bianchi rolled her eyes at him. "Idiot. You were supposed to say, 'No, only the pretty ones,' or something else equally inane."

Dino thought about that as he took a sip of his wine. "Um, did you _want_ me to say something inane?"

"I haven't decided."

"When you do, I'll try to be accommodating," Dino said. "Since I'm apologizing and all."

"You certainly know how to charm a girl." Bianchi's gaze moved away from him again, traveling around the room full people eating and drinking and enjoying themselves.

Dino watched her catalog the room. He was pretty sure she'd chosen to seat that was against the wall deliberately, too. Well, hitmen did have to be careful. "You never struck me as the type who cared to be charmed."

That got her attention again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dino shrugged. "It's a thing that hitman do. Like you all know how and why people maneuver around each other, and can see right through it. You use stuff like that, but you don't let yourselves be used by it."

Bianchi gave him a long look, one that he couldn't read. Then her mouth curved in a smile. "Sometimes I forget that Reborn trained you, too. You do the genial idiot thing so well."

"Who said that it's a thing that I do?"

"Mm," Bianchi said, but didn't clarify her response before the server brought them the amuse-bouche. Dino hoped that she would let the moment pass, and ransacked his brain for another topic, but she beat him to it. "False modesty doesn't become anyone."

"Beg pardon?"

Bianchi gave him another unnervingly direct look. "Honestly, Cavallone. Even if I hadn't just seen you demonstrate that you're not as dumb as you look, I'd still know that you're the one who restored the Cavallone Family. I know you've got a brain under all that blond hair. Kindly don't forget that I have one, too."

Dino stared at her, realizing that he might have just fallen a little bit in love. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Bianchi smiled, slow. "Then I think we'll get along just fine."

Dino lifted his glass of wine and toasted her. "Yeah, I think we will."

It went more easily after that; Dino suspected that he'd passed some sort of test, because Bianchi relaxed over the first course, lounging in her seat and offering caustic comments about Giorgio Barassi's attempt to overthrow his father and the crisis it had sparked. There was no denying that he'd botched the entire thing badly and the discussion was entertaining, especially when Bianchi began outlining all the things Barassi had bungled and how he could have done it right. "The biggest mistake he made was trying to arrange an accident for his father and then subcontracting it to the fucking Grassellini," she said, gesturing with her fork. "The Grassellini are charming people, don't get me wrong, but they can't execute a plan to save their lives. Giorgio should have just found his balls and handled it himself. Franco likes to hunt. It would have been easy to go with him and have an 'accident' somewhere in the back of beyond."

"Except that Giorgio faints at the sight of blood." He'd been notorious for it at school, in fact. Dino'd been a little disgusted by that, even in the days before Reborn.

Bianchi frowned. "Like I said. He should have found his balls first."

"I'm not sure he ever had them to lose," Dino pointed out. "I think the only reason he survived school was that he made friends with Pasquale Pozzo Nero." For the _sucking up to_ values of _making friends_, anyway.

Bianchi just snorted. "Makes sense. I doubt he could have done it any other way."

Dino made a face. "He always was good at the game of 'Let's you and him fight.'"

"He puts me in mind of a weasel." Dino nearly choked on his wine at the aptness of the description, and Bianchi went on. "A handsy one."

Her expression had gone dark. Dino cleared his throat, thinking that it was time for a subject change. "He is a weasel," he agreed. "Or maybe a rat. That was what Squalo always called him."

"Squalo's reasonably smart." Bianchi's mouth quirked. "Aside from his boss, anyway."

"Exactly." Dino swirled the wine in his glass. "Aside from his boss. And his sword. He's certifiably insane in those directions."

Bianchi rolled her eyes, pushing her plate aside. "And how. Were you there when Yamamoto—no, of course you weren't, you were in Rome, weren't you?"

"When Yamamoto did what?" Dino raised his eyebrows as the server whisked their plates away, which was all that it took to get her telling stories on Yamamoto and his ongoing attempts to drive Squalo into frothing fits, which he did with remarkable skill and panache. The iteration that Bianchi described for him had involved Yamamoto's choosing to unveil a new technique in a tight moment and Squalo's subsequent rage that he'd been holding back during their most recent training session. Bianchi's imitation of Squalo's shrieks of rage made heads around the restaurant turn and Dino laugh until his sides hurt. It was a while before he could breathe again. "Oh, I wish I _had_ seen that."

"It was funny as long as you were standing back." Bianchi shook her head. "That one'll be lucky not to die of an aneurysm before he gets himself killed."

"Mm." Dino tapped a finger against the tablecloth, thinking about it. "I don't know. He's a strange one. I wonder sometimes how much of the..."

He stopped, trying to find a word that amply described the scope of Squalo's displays of spleen. Bianchi supplied it for him. "Histrionics?"

"—histrionics, yes, how much of that is just for show." Because Squalo _was_ smart; he pretty well ran the Varia for Xanxus, insofar as the daily bureaucracy of it went, and that wasn't exactly an easy thing to do when one's bureaucracy was made up of ordinary people, let alone a circus of killers who all exhibited varying degrees of psychopathy.

Bianchi's eyebrow went up. "You _are_ observant." She lifted her glass to her lips and added, "But then, like knows like."

The server came back, this time with the main course. Dino waited till she had gone away again to ask what that was supposed to mean. Bianchi took a bite of her veal and chewed it thoughtfully. She took her time about answering, too. "The bumbling, ridiculous act that you're so fond of. If you were half as stupid as you act, the Cavallone would have fallen apart years ago." Which, yes, they'd already established. Before he could say so, she added, "I don't think you're even half as clumsy as you like people to believe you are, either."

Dino was aware that he was staring and tried to demur. "Not when my Family is around, no."

Bianchi just rolled her eyes at him. "Please. If your man found a place to park within two blocks of here, I'll eat my own poison cooking." She gestured at the table and its array of glasses, the candles and the bottle of wine, and the pristine tablecloth beneath it all. "And yet, here we are."

"My range _is_ expanding, you know."

It was neither a confirmation nor a denial; the satisfied curve of Bianchi's smile said she'd noticed as much, too. "I thought so," she said. "Reborn isn't that careless a teacher."

Dino surrendered and smiled, rueful. "Reborn isn't careless about anything."

"This is very true." Bianchi's smile flashed again, there and gone. "He's especially thorough with his students."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

If he'd been hoping to get her to say something about the peculiar relationship she and Reborn shared, he was doomed to disappointment. Bianchi only shrugged at him, careless. "Watching him turn Tsuna into the Tenth was very educational."

Frustrating as it was, he couldn't help admiring how deftly she evaded his questions. "Nostalgic, too."

Bianchi tipped her head to the side, studying him. "Did he put you through the same sorts of things he did Tsuna?"

"Well, not exactly..." Dino thought about it. "I think he comes up with different lessons for each of his students. I mean, he never had to persuade me that I was supposed to be boss and he didn't have to teach me the rules... he just had to persuade me to accept it all." He and Tsuna had both had that in common.

"How'd he do it?"

Dino thought about evading the question the same way she evaded his questions, but it wasn't worth it, really. And they had to talk about _something_. "Well, you know he's very fond of costumes..." he said, launching into an account of Reborn's miscellaneous attempts to get him to grow up and accept his responsibilities. From the distance of this many years, it was easy to make the story funny, though he hadn't much enjoyed the process at the time. Bianchi laughed when she was supposed to, anyway, which was gratifying. It was easy to spin the telling of it out over the time it took to clear their plates and for the server to bring them coffee and desserts, and as a bonus, it kept the conversation away from the topics with the hidden pitfalls that made her eyes go dark.

Dino was used to laughing at himself, anyway.

By the time he finished up with, "And then Reborn looked at me and said that I'd have to do because he didn't have any more time to waste on me. And here I am," she was looking at him with a glint of something—consideration, perhaps—in her eyes.

"Bravo," she said over her coffee; the amusement of it covered up the glint of consideration. "So Reborn really can work miracles."

Dino rubbed the back of his neck. "Sure seems that way. But you knew that. You saw him with Tsuna."

"I saw what he did with Tsuna's potential." Bianchi set her coffee down and shrugged. "If you really were as hopeless as you make it sound, then he didn't even have _that_ to work with and really did create something out of nothing."

The server came by just then with the check, saving Dino from the sharpness of the observation and the pointed look accompanying it. Dino concerned himself with his wallet and his credit card in order to avoid having to meet Bianchi's eyes.

Not that it saved him. Bianchi snorted when the woman went away with his card. "I thought so." Dino glanced at her and saw that she was shaking her head. "Clearly someone needs to call you on your bullshit more often."

This time it was easy to deliver the properly flirtatious response. "Are you volunteering?"

She answered seriously, probably just to spite him. "Maybe I am." She drained the last of her coffee as Dino gaped at her. "Call your driver, Cavallone. I'll give you a more definite answer in the morning."

There was only one thinkable response to that. "Right away," Dino said, hands flying to his phone as she settled back in her seat, smiling and clearly satisfied with matters.

It had been a little while since he'd taken someone on a date, thanks to the recent upheavals and the business concerns that had followed it. That didn't mean that he'd forgotten that the span of time just after it'd become clear where the evening would end was sometimes the best part of things. The moments of anticipation—of casual touches that weren't really casual and the exchange of glances and oblique smiles—were sometimes more fun than the actual tumble into bed.

But only sometimes. Other times, they were just the precursors to the main event. Dino wasn't sure how this time was going to go, but had his suspicions nonetheless. Bianchi let him set his hand at the small of her back as they walked out of the restaurant. Her shirt was cropped short, which let him run his fingers under the hem of it, just teasing against the smoothness of her skin, warm in comparison to the night's cool air. He felt the little shiver that ran through her then, though she didn't say anything as Vinnie pulled up.

He barely heard the soft huff as he pulled away from her, fingers ghosting against the small of her back. It should have been a warning, but he didn't think about it until it was too late and he'd already slid into his own seat and said, "Take us home, Vinnie."

Vinnie was good at keeping a straight face. All he said was, "Yes, Boss," with the barest trace of amusement in his voice.

Dino didn't have time to think about it; Vinnie had barely put the car into gear before Bianchi reached a casual hand across the seat and set it on the inside of his knee. She ran her fingers up the inside of Dino's inseam. Dino nearly bit his tongue as Bianchi's hand settled between his legs, cupping the front of his slacks. And her tone was absolutely bored when she asked, "Have you worked for the Cavallone for long, Vinnie?"

Vinnie, thank God, didn't notice anything, or was too well-trained to let on if he had. "All my life, Miss. I've been driving the boss around since before he could shave."

"Really." Bianchi practically drawled it, starting to sound interested. An alarm bell went off in Dino's brain—the part of it that wasn't preoccupied with the warm pressure of Bianchi's hand against him, massaging him gently. "I'll bet you could tell some interesting stories."

"Just a few, Miss." Vinnie chuckled. "Most drivers probably could."

The glum thought occurred to Dino that at least the prospect of Vinnie telling Bianchi embarrassing stories on him was enough to keep him from embarrassing himself in other ways. There wasn't any chance that Bianchi had missed that, either, not when he could see the shape of her smirk in the passing gleam of the streetlights. He cleared his throat. "Vinnie's probably seen me at my worst so many times that he's lost count."

"Already forgotten, Boss. I like to remember the times when you're not bleeding."

Vinnie's tone was gently reproachful; Bianchi just made another one of her ambiguously interested sounds. "Does that happen often?"

The rumble of the tires against the pavement as Vinnie turned onto the main road out of town covered the sound of her undoing Dino's zip. Dino had to work to keep his voice steady. "Not really." He was rather pleased with how well he managed it. "Every time it happens, though, you'd think it was the end of the world." The last part of that came out in a rush as Bianchi slid her fingers inside his underwear and he tried to avoid groaning as the pads of her fingers stroked over him.

"You'd think we didn't love you any more if we didn't fuss," Vinnie pointed out. Dino only half-heard him as Bianchi's fingers ran over his cock, light enough to be teasing and to make him sink his fingers into the upholstery anyway.

"Boss types can be so needy, can't they?" Bianchi's voice dripped with sympathy. When Dino snuck a glance at her, he could just see that she was looking at Vinnie attentively, with no sign that she was fondling Dino's cock, ruthlessly direct about it.

"That they can, Miss, that they can." Vinnie's laugh was rusty. "We put up with them anyway."

"I'm not one for putting up with things," Bianchi noted as she traced a finger over Dino's head and he had to bite his lip hard. "Life's too short."

"Mm." Vinnie accelerated as they turned onto a street with less traffic and town fell away behind them. They were making good time, for which Dino was devoutly grateful. "There are compensations," he said, finally. "No offense, Miss, but you're a freelancer, so you don't really know what it's like to be a part of a Family with a good boss at the head of it."

"I suppose I don't." Bianchi sounded amused and tolerant about it, but her fingers had tightened briefly and Dino'd had to stifle the urge to hiss as they had.

He was beginning to wonder whether he was going to survive the drive home without embarrassing himself after all.

He cleared his throat anyway and thought about boring things, rows of columns and figures that added up to staggering amounts of debt. When he'd mastered himself again, he said, "Don't be a snob, Vinnie. Not everyone cares to be in a Family, and it's not just because they don't know a good thing when they see it. Besides, there's a lot of freedom in being unaffiliated."

"I guess." Vinnie's tone was dubious. Dino cleared his throat again, rather than make the sound he _wanted_ to make when Bianchi's fingers pressed against him, squeezing slowly, but Vinnie seemed to take that as a reprimand. He added, hastily, "I don't mean any disrespect, Miss. I just don't think it's something I'd enjoy, is all. Been a Cavallone man all my life, and my father and his father before me."

"Impressive lineage," Bianchi murmured.

Dino just closed his eyes, because that was just the opening Vinnie needed.

"My granddad saved the Boss's great-granddad," Vinnie announced, true to form. Pride dripped off every word. "That's how we came to be Cavallone men, you see."

"No kidding." Bianchi probably didn't give a damn about the story, but no one would have been able to guess it from the curiosity in her voice. "What'd he do?"

Dino leaned his head back and breathed carefully as Vinnie launched into the story; he was fond of it and could make it last for as long as an audience could be patient. This time he'd probably manage to go on for the rest of the drive, which wasn't a bad thing, all things considered. Bianchi was still playing with him, fingers stroking him lightly, and it was all Dino could do to keep his breathing even and his hips from lifting into her hands without having to make pleasant conversation at the same time.

Good Lord, she was a dangerous woman. It probably wasn't sane to find that as attractive as he did. Dino glanced at her profile and decided that he was okay with that anyway.

His faith in Vinnie's loquaciousness was repaid; Vinnie only came to the final flourishes of his family legend as they were turning in at the main house what felt like several small eternities later (but was only about fifteen minutes in reality). He timed it perfectly; he said, "And that's how we came to be working for the Cavallone" as they rolled to a stop in front of the main doors.

"And the Cavallone have been damn lucky to have you." Dino lifted Bianchi's hand out of his lap and continued speaking to cover the sound of getting himself rearranged. "The Cavallone have always been lucky in the people who are part of the Family, though."

"Thanks, Boss." Vinnie unbuckled, as if to make for the doors.

"I've got it," Dino said. He nearly tumbled out of the car in his haste and used the brief moment it took to get around the car to do up his zip again before getting the door for Bianchi. "Night, Vinnie."

"Night, Boss, Miss."

Dino waited till Vinnie had pulled away to tell Bianchi, "You're a bad, bad person, you know that?"

She just laughed at him. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Dino held out his hand to her. "Come inside and I'll show you."

She snorted. "Promises are cheap, Cavallone." But she took his hand anyway.

Dino raised it to his lips, kissing the back of it; it seemed like a suitably absurd gesture and worked perfectly as she rolled her eyes at him. "Not if you mean to keep them."

"Oh, please." Bianchi let him lead her inside anyway. She didn't say anything as Dino guided her through the house, choosing to look around with sharp eyes, marking doors and windows, cataloging them as she went. It wouldn't have surprised Dino at all if she were building a mental map of the building, too. But that was what hitmen did, he supposed.

She did laugh when he ushered her into his bedroom, and gesture at the bed with her chin. "I'd ask whether you were compensating for something if I didn't already know better."

Dino shrugged and reached for her. "I like my space." He half-expected her to elude him, teasing him some more, but she surprised him again, this time by flowing into his arms as smoothly as water and turning her face up to his to be kissed as she twined her arms around his shoulders. It was deliciously direct; he said so between kisses.

Bianchi just laughed at him and pulled him into another kiss, mouth open and sure against his. She hummed something encouraging as he smoothed his hands down her back and over the curve of her ass and leaned into him, her breasts soft against his chest. "I think you're looking forward to this." She shifted against him, rubbing her hip against his crotch.

"Or maybe someone's been teasing me like a fiend," Dino retorted. He got a hand under the hem of her shirt, running it up her side and feeling the smoothness of the muscles under the soft curves of her. Her bra was satiny; her breath hitched as he cupped her breast through it.

"I don't have any idea what you could mean by that." Bianchi raised her arms to let him pull the shirt over her head and shook her hair back from her face when he tossed it aside. She undid her bra herself, letting it fall, and laughed at the way he stared down at the lush swell of her breasts. "Well?"

"Very nice." Dino ran his hands over her ribs and cupped them under her breasts, letting the silky weight of them fill his palms.

She sighed, eyes going heavy-lidded as he stroked his thumbs over the full curve of them, teasing the peaks of them. "You're a breast man. Should have known."

"I like to think of myself as an everything man," he said, absently, bending his head to kiss her throat and discovering the last sweet traces of perfume dabbed behind her ears. "But your breasts _are_ pretty fantastic."

Bianchi laughed again and let him press her back towards his bed. She sprawled on it, hair spreading against the pillows. "I suppose they're not too bad," she mused, lifting her hands to them and touching them. The sight arrested Dino in the act of peeling out of his shirt; he didn't know what sort of sound he made, but she looked up, fingers still running over her own skin, and smiled. "Like what you see?"

"Very much." He scrambled to get his shirt undone, fingers gone clumsy with his haste.

"Mm, I see." Bianchi kicked her shoes off and gave him a look from under her lashes that struck him still again with how sultry it was. "How do you like this?" She reached down to her jeans, undoing them, and her body flexed up in a smooth arch as she shoved them and her panties down, leaving herself bare. As he stared, she ran her hands back up her thighs, splaying them open, and dipped her fingers between them, stroking herself.

Dino realized then that there was no way that he was going to keep the upper hand in this encounter. "You are an incredibly dangerous woman," he breathed, watching the slow back and forth of her fingers as her breathing turned deeper and a flush spread down the fair skin of her throat and chest.

"Mm." Bianchi's smile was slow and satisfied as she ran her other hand back up her body and cupped it around her breast, playing with it. "That's the kind of compliment that goes straight to my head."

Dino didn't remember the rest of getting undressed, he was so riveted to the spectacle on the bed—the way Bianchi's breathing turned deep and the soft sounds she made as she slid her fingers over her breasts and the slow rock of her hips as her fingers dipped and moved between them, gleaming wet now as she slid them inside herself and circled them over her clit. He managed it somehow, because when she finally turned her eyes on him and said, "You _are_ allowed to do more than watch," he was able to stumble away from the pile of his clothes and climb into bed with her, settling over her and sighing at the texture of her skin against his.

Bianchi sighed too as he bent his head and ran his mouth over the curve of her breasts, tasting the salt on her skin. He murmured her name against them; her fingers flexed against his shoulders as he spread his hands against her skin, exploring the shape of her, gloriously sleek under his palms. She sighed again as he ran his hands over her thighs, slipping them up to stroke against the softness of her. "Show me what you like," he said.

"I thought I already did." Her breath caught as he ran his fingers between the slick folds of her. "Mm, yes, like that."

Dino let the sounds she made, half-voiced gasps and breathless commands—_There_ and _Yes_—guide the stroke of his fingers against her clit, now slow and light, now faster and firmer, until she murmured for more. She closed her eyes, shuddering at the fingers that he slipped into her. Dino worked them against the grip of her body until she was flushed and groaning under him, hands knotted in the pillow under her head as her body shook under his, rocked by the shudders of her orgasm. He kept on touching her until she gasped and reached for his hand, pushing it away from her as she sprawled under him, eyes closed as she panted.

She caught him watching her when she opened her eyes again and looked up at him with something she couldn't identify moving in her eyes. Then she said, "Jesus," and tangled her fingers in his hair, parting her lips for his. Her hands ran down his body, quick and light but no less sure for it as she guided him over her.

They both groaned as he sank into her; Bianchi clutched at his hips, taut and trembling under Dino as he shuddered with the feel of her body finally around him after so much teasing. He sank his teeth into his lip, lightheaded with the effort of not moving and taking when he wanted it so much, until Bianchi hitched her hips against his. "Come on." Her hands were heavy against his hips, urging him on. "Come on, Cavallone, don't hold back on me now."

"Anything you want," he gasped, heartfelt, and let his need set the pace of his hips, driving against her and groaning as pleasure twined up his spine. Bianchi groaned too, head thrown back and her eyes squeezed closed, lips parted for the quick gasps of her breath. Her hands moved up to grip his back as she arched into his strokes, opening herself to him and taking him deeper. He couldn't stop touching her, hands tracing over her breasts and hips as she flexed under him, moving with him. She was breathtaking in her abandon; Dino thought he might have said so in the incoherent jumble of words that spilled out of his mouth as he fucked her. If she heard, she didn't give any sign of it, though her hands did tighten their grip on his back.

She cried out when she came again, sharp and sounding almost surprised by it when her body clenched around him. That was all it took to break the last reserves of Dino's own control. He shook against her, hips jerking against hers as pleasure short-circuited his brain altogether, till there was nothing left of him in the brightness of it.

"I'll give you this," Bianchi said afterwards when they'd finally begun to collect themselves a bit. Dino roused himself from drowsing against her shoulder as her fingers touched his hair, playing with it, and made what he hoped was an enquiring sound. "You really _do_ know how to apologize in style."

He nuzzled her shoulder, turning his face against her throat, and ran a hand down her side. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

He thought she might have hesitated, but when she spoke, her voice was firm. "No. Not even a little bit."

Dino blinked and raised his head to look at her, but though her mouth was flat, her eyes were laughing, and _oh_, now he got it. "Huh." He settled against her again. "Guess I'll have to try harder, then."

"Do that," she said, crisp, and only let him laugh for a little bit before demanding another kiss from him. Dino set about proving just how earnest his apology really was all over again, even though he wasn't a bit sorry that he'd followed her and Knuckles Matanni into that alleyway after all.

But then, he was starting to think that she didn't regret it, either. The thought made him laugh again, until Bianchi kissed the laughter right out of him and he was too busy to think any more.

**end**

Comments are lovely!


End file.
